


Barely Able to Stand

by LotusJoy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Reunion, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusJoy/pseuds/LotusJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Omegle. Was in a post reichenbach mood. </p>
<p>My first ever post reichenbach (I am playing John in this little fic)</p>
<p>If you are the stranger let me know I will give you credit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely Able to Stand

Pick up a bottle of black hair dye on your way home -SH

Who is this? Where did you get his phone from? Who are you? What game is this? -JW

It's me John, really me. I'll explain it in better detail when you come back to 221B. -SH

This isn't funny whoever you are. He's dead. Stop joking with me. -JW

John slips his phone into his pocket not knowing how to act. Part of him desperately wants to believe Sherlock is really on the other end of these messages and another part doesn't eve want to get hopeful for fear of despair and disappointment which will crush him when he inevitably finds Sherlock is NOT waiting for him in the flat. John walks to the store to buy some black hair dye. 

After sending the text Sherlock leans back against his chair, running a hand through his dyed blonde hair; he looks around the flat. The violin is still where he'd left it, as is his laptop. The only thing that are missing are his lab equipment, that was to be expected though. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath, allowing himself to relax for the first time in a long time.

John walks slowly up tot the front door of the flat. His erratic breaths begin to hitch and get caught in his throat as he reaches for the handle of the door, keys in hand. As he inserts the keys and turns then he realizes the door is already unlocked; he clearly remembers locking it when he left earlier in the day. John turns the handle and steps in. He has to brace himself against the door because at this point he has begun to hyperventilate. He begins to steady his breathing and starts to ascend the stairs.

Hearing the front door open Sherlock's eyes snap open and he stares at the door. He holds himself back from running down the stairs to get John, knowing that his presence by itself is enough to cause stress and doesn't want to cause more. Instead he chooses to stay seated so that he would be the first thing John sees when he enters the flat. Hearing the footsteps and uneven breathing Sherlock feels his heart speed up in his chest.

John is trembling as he makes his way up the stairs. He is more than hopeful that Sherlock will be sitting there waiting but his brain keeps repeating, 'he's not there, Sherlock is dead'. John finally reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before stepping in the doorway. He looks about the room, same as he left it this morning, almost the same as before, IT happened. All is the same, except the strange blonde man sitting in Sherlock's chair. John can't breathe. It's him. He's alive. John can barely tolerate the sight of him, he drops the bag he has in hand which contains the black hair dye per request, he then proceeds to collapse to his knees. He cannot control the tears, he begins to sob loudly and can barely manage a breath. He clutches himself around the stomach because of the physical pain he is experiencing. When he left it felt like someone was tearing his heart out, now he is back and someone is putting it back by force. He is back. He is alive. He is blonde. John cannot deal.

Before Sherlock had arrived at the flat he'd considered every possible outcome of when John saw him for the first time. Yelling, hitting, even storming out; but this, this is the one he'd wanted to experience least of all. As he watched John fall to his knees Sherlock felt all the guilt he'd been trying to ignore hit him full force. After a moment he slowly made his way over to John and kneels in front of him, hesitating he slowly brought his arms up to wrap around the other man. "I'm sorry, John." He said quietly, wishing there were better words to describe how sorry he truly was.

John looks up at Sherlock, now kneeling in front of him, tears streaming from his eyes. John is broken, entirely and completely, even Sherlock's apology cannot repair the damage that has been done. John's questioning, silent, anguish simply asks 'Why?'. John cannot utter a word but his eyes burrow into Sherlock's being and can only display his despair. John reaches out and collapses beating his fist against his friend's chest. Possibly a feeble attempt at beating the truth of, how he could inflict this pain on him, by force of physical abuse. John tries to speak and all that comes out is a feeble squeak and a guttural sob.

After John collapsed against his chest Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut as his hands shake where they rest against John's back. He needs to try to keep himself from breaking down at the sight of John, brave, kind, sweet John overcome with agony. Licking his suddenly dry lip, Sherlock tries to think of the best way to explain something which has caused so much pain. "I had to protect you, and not just you Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson too. If I hadn't... jumped, Moriarty would have had you all killed... Ever since then I've been finding everyone who he had ties with to insure that no harm would come to any of you." He says with a slightly shaky voice.

John leans against Sherlock crying as silently as possible for a while. John finally calm enough to speak pushes away from Sherlock. Tears continues to stream down John's face. He clears his throat, his voice shaking, "I understand-... Why you had-... to-... do it-... But-... WHY-... did you have to lie-... to me?!-... I thought you-... were-..." John cannot bring himself to say it. He tries as hard as he can to not fall to pieces again, his lip trembling as he reaches up to Sherlock's face stroking his thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone. John closes his eyes still unconvinced this is entirely real, shaking his head memorizing the way it feels, knowing that any second he may wake up.

Leaning into the touch Sherlock feels tears begin to gather in his own eyes. He wants to reach out and hold John, but he doesn't want to push John any further than he already has. He takes a shaky breath before swallowing the lump in his throat. "They were already monitoring you and if you known that I was alive they would have been aware and killed you." Hos voice breaks slightly at the end. "I didn't expect to love while I was away and I couldn't bring myself to ask you to come with me." The tears finally began to stream down his face as he finished speaking. 

John stares at him in disbelief. He takes his hand and slides it into the short mess of blonde curls and then, out of sudden anger, pulls Sherlock's hair causing his head to tilt back and his face to turn up to a grimace in pain. John releases Sherlock's hair and lets his arm fall to his side. He is no longer able to cry, the tears will no longer form. He just kneels there on the hard floor unable to move, or speak, or cry.

As Sherlock stares at John he bites his lip to try to get himself to stop crying, tasting blood he releases his lip from between his teeth. He wishes John would punch him, slap him, anything than seeing him like this. "I don't expect to be forgive, and I would understand if you never trusted me again. Just say... SOMETHING, please." He says desperately.

John breathes deeply, reaches up, withdrawing a bit as Sherlock flinches, and then proceeds to wipe away the tears that still slide down Sherlock's face. He allows his hands to explore the man in front of him. His hands trail across Sherlock's shoulders, down his arms, to his hands balled into fists in his lap. He loosens Sherlock's fingers and strokes the knuckles of each one. Every touch he shares with Sherlock reassures him that Sherlock is, in fact, sitting in front of him, very much alive. He takes another deep breath, steadying himself, and without hesitation says, "I love you, I thought I would never get the opportunity to say it to you. I told myself from the moment IT happened, if you ever WERE for some reason still alive I would make sure I said it..." John exhales and places his shaking hands on either side of Sherlock's dace and while looking into the blue-green puddles of Sherlock's eyes repeats for a second time, "I love you, so much"

Sherlock stares at John with disbelief, scared that somehow this was all a lie on John's part. His eyes begin to move across John's face searching for any sign of deception, finding none, he sits for a while just to absorb the fact that John really loves him. Slowly he takes John's hands in his while keeping eye contact with the other man. "I love you too." He says quietly, unused to saying the words, and if John hadn't been close he wouldn't have heard. After that Sherlock was unsure what to do, he'd never imagined that this would actually happen.

John pulls Sherlock close and presses his lips firmly to those of his flatmate and his fingers glide along the back of Sherlock's neck and run through his hair. He pulls away and says in a hoarse whisper, "I've misses you so much... I'm so glad you are alright... Dye your bloody hair." John smiles for the first time in 3 long years and it feels incredible.


End file.
